How To Train Your Dragon, written by Hadrian James Potter
by MakinaCZ
Summary: A very handy book for anyone willing to look past the set prejudice against these intelligent, gentle creatures. (Set completely in HP universe, with HTTYD elements)
1. Chapter 1

**_~How To Train Your Dragon~_**

_Written by_

_Hadrian James Potter, Horrendous Haddock, Hiccup the Fourth_

_Dragon. A word that symbolises extreme danger and destruction; an enormous fire-breathing monster that causes nothing but pain and death. That is what our fathers taught us, what our mothers used as a mean to tame unruly children. Perhaps, if I have grown in similar situation, this book wouldn't even be written, as I would blindly believe everything other witches and wizards said. _

_But that couldn't be farther from the truth._

_As it is, despite the name of this book, you can't exactly tame a dragon- just like you can't tame a human. Because that's 'what' a dragon is; it's not a heartless monster, but an intelligent, gentle creature- a being with a soul, and feelings, just like mine or yours._

_I am writing this book with a hope, that all wizards and witches will look past the wrong beliefs that are spread on these kind souls, and that it will help them to find a lifelong friend. Because to my experience, there is nothing like to have a dragon companion._

_There is nothing like it, to win a dragon's heart._

_This book is not a manual, but collection of my experiences; my memoirs, my own life-story. It is difficult to write a simple instruction how to deal with these beautiful creatures, as each individual is its own person, and should be treated as such. I am hoping that my story will help you to learn how to approach them, and know how to act and react. And perhaps, to teach you far more about dragons, then you ever dreamed of._

_This tale starts at the early point of my life, where I met my best friend- my brother in all but blood. A young Night Fury (species named by my ancestor, commonly known as Northern Darkwing to magical community), which I named Toothless..._

**Chapter 1.**

Harry had hoped that once he had started attending 'school' –the big building he passed by each time he was let out of the house- that everything would change for better. He imagined what it must have looked like inside: a warm coloured room, bright and welcoming, smiling faces he saw only on pictures, warm and friendly. Certainly, the children that flocked the outside playground always laughed, running around and chasing each other with a happiness etched in their beaming faces. He used to huddle behind the large metal fence and watch them, imagining for a moment that he was running among them. He always envisioned it- climbing the monkey bars and going down the slide, with his friends waiting for him at the bottom, and then they would laugh and joke and chase each other- perhaps even mock-battling, with branches for swords, just like King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table.

It gave him something to look forward to, and he anticipated the day eagerly, like a normal boy being excited for Christmas (not that he could compare it, as he was a bad boy, so Father Christmas never brought him anything).

The reality... it was not as glorious as he hoped. Sure, the room was bright- and once could say welcoming too, with all the cartoon animals and prettily illustrated books available to the newcomers. That was true enough to what he envisioned. Trying to make friends was a bit harder.

He had approached few- being quite bold and courageous, as a knight should be, in his humble opinion- and even managed to get some talking to him, and agreeing to play with him when the break started. Harry was nearly ecstatic- this was a first time he could play with kids his age, and he was nearly floating with happiness.

Until that happiness as fast as an air from a punctured balloon when Dudley, angry and jealous that Harry made friends faster than he- as no-one tried to approach the pig-like whining boy- stood up and immediately pushed and hit each of the children that even tried to talk his dark-haired cousin, and his cruel words chased away everyone who came near in the future. And nothing Harry did helped- if only, it made the other children ignore him, or- to further save themselves from Dudley's wrath- they taunted him and sneered at him, making the boy flinch in hurt and retreat.

And so it was with his heart bleeding, and his dreams crushed under Dudley's heavy foot, that Harry decided to do something very, very stupid:

He tackled his cousin with a tearful scream and started to scratch and bite every bit of bare skin he could find.

Dudley's terrified squealing could be heard by their new teacher who had to use every bit of his strength to tear ballistic Harry from his much large and snivelling cousin, and then promptly bring him to the principal's office, while calling home.

It was only Petunia's hidden rage in her eyes as she stared at him in distaste when she picked him up- as the principal stated carefully that perhaps it was for the best to have Harry come home for the remainder of the day- that the young child felt fear grip his insides, and it fully sank in what happened. And he knew that if there was any way for him to find friends, he lost that chance when he proved to be a 'maniacal brute', as his Aunt screeched at him behind the closed door of the Number Four, spanking him so hard that he couldn't even sit on his cot when she locked him in his cupboard.

He spent hours there, sobbing soundlessly to the hard mattress, knowing that he only had himself to blame for all that happened, even if Dudley started. An assumption that proved to be true when he was let out of the cupboard the next day, and all the children stayed clear away from him, afraid that he will turn on them.

Dudley clearly played the victim well, as it seemed that he had made four new friends, and the other children weren't as wary of him now- mainly because they ignored Harry, so Dudley had no reason to pick on them.

As for Harry himself, the school turned to be another form of suffering. His classmates were afraid of him, thanks to the uneven number of kids in class he was always alone- even when they should have been split to pairs for work- and his teacher was always watching him with suspicion, his word always harsh with an undertone of warning each time he told the young boy to do something.

And there was nothing Harry could change about it.

_H_

Attending school was hell- that was what Harry thought to himself after the first few months. And the number of detentions he got was rapidly growing, as his homework was abysmal, his reading was horrendous (he repeatedly told the teacher that he can't see what was written on the board, but that in turn only had the teacher snap at him, while the class laughed) and in turn his written work was decidedly the worst of all, taking the spot even before Dudley, even though his cousin's work was just as bad.

His classmates called him 'Dim-eyed Harry', or 'Dump Head', and they laughed and pointed, and it took all of Harry's willpower not to break down in tears, even though he wanted to.

School also introduced him to another form of suffering:

Bullies.

Namely his cousin, Dudley's best friend Piers Polkiss, along with a three other boys: Dennis, Gordon and Malcolm. They also introduced the small dark-haired boy to their new game-

Harry Hunting.

And if he thought that school was hell before, it couldn't compare to the pure torture he was living through the hands of his classmates.

_H_

When the school nurse send him home with a note, that he appeared to be short-sighted and therefore needs glasses, Harry hoped that everything will get better- even though the glasses Aunt Petunia picked for him were ugly and not at nice on his face, making him look even worse than before (but he finally saw what he _really_ looked like, and that the scar he had on his forehead was shaped like _lightning_, and wasn't that _cool_?) – but he had entered the classroom with a firm belief that now that he had glasses, the children and his teacher will know that he wasn't being stupid on purpose, and even if their taunts won't completely disappear, the situation will get better.

He thought that until his teacher took one look at him and started laughing- his classmates immediately joining.

Harry never felt so humiliated- and it got so bad that he actually run away from the room, out of the school, and he just run as fast as he could, not stopping even as his legs hurt and each breath burned deep in his lungs.

It took until it was dark for him to return to Privet drive, where his Uncle yelled at him, but Harry took it with a pained heart and hopeless expression on his face, not even being able to sleep when they locked him for the night, spending hours in the darkness as he dreaded what might await him the next day.

_H_

Their male teacher was gone- Harry never bothered to remember his name, as the man was nothing but horrible to him- and there was a pretty, but stern-looking lady instead. She told them that their teacher was reassigned to another class, offering no explanation why, before focusing on the lesson.

(Harry later heard that someone noticed his tear-stained face as he fled from the school, and the investigation of the matter uncovered clear unprofessionalism that caused the principal to actually sack the man)

All in all, while it did nothing to cut down the bullying outside the class, Mrs. Hill- as was their new teacher called- did not tolerate such thing while in class, and each cruel taunt or snicker at his expense was swiftly punished. On one hand, it was relief, as Harry was finally able to focus on his work. Yet, on the other hand, the children's distaste for him only grew, and they barely tolerated him when the lesson ended.

And so it was that Harry started to spend his breaks not outside on the playground, but inside the classroom, with only books for company.

It wasn't so bad, considering- but it was a lonely experience, and Harry could do nothing but bear it silently.

With the school taking up most of the day, Harry was left wandering the streets after. The Dursleys, as hateful as they were of his misbehaving, and always founding the smallest of excuses to punish him, did not particularly care for his presence- in fact they were overjoyed when he wasn't around at all.

Something that Harry took advantage of quite thoroughly.

The inhabitants of Surrey pay him no mind, becoming quite used to him wandering around, even if they were wary, as the tale of him being unhinged spread like a fire. It was only luck that he was allowed in library, as the lady there was always nose deep in a book every time he entered- a safe haven when he wanted to get warm or escape Dudley, as the porky boy avoided knowledge as plague.

There wasn't much to do in the library than just read a book. And there weren't many books that Harry was able to read and understand fully, as he was still five years old and some things were just beyond him, even though he tried his best. But he could look at pictures if not anything, and that's what he did- sprawled on a chair as he leafed through a book on survival, memorizing the drawn instructions for how to create a fire, or how to make a shelter. Or even how to catch a fish, or make a simple trap.

It looked not only interesting, but also very useful- and it was something that Harry decided to put to a use, when his hunger grew so bad that he was feeling faint on his feet.

_H_

It was actually harder that it seemed in the books.

There was a small forest-like park in the neighbourhood that was situated near a nameless river. Harry had no way of knowing if there were any rabbits he could catch in a snare- not that he had any rope to actually make such trap- so he decided that fishing was way to go. The riverbank was not steep, and the river itself was quite shallow, enough that he could see silvery flashes of scales, as the fish swam by, seemingly unconcerned of Harry's intent to catch them.

A state that they had every right to be in, as every time Harry grabbed for one, they just sneaked right under his tiny fingers, making him cry out..

The first time it happened, the boy pushed past it, writing it off to his inexperience, and quickly assured himself that it would change soon.

The second time made him bite his lip in disappointment, and his eyes harden in determination.

The third and fourth time had him falter slightly, before steeling his resolve again.

But as the number of tries grew, and his fingers slowly started to numb from the cold water, he just started to think: _I can't do it._ It was impossible. And yet he still tried, again and again, because even if he didn't believe in his skills anymore he was desperate to keep going-

And his hands closed over something slippery and the shock of the sensation had him throw his hands over his head-

And then there was fish, flopping and trashing in panic on the grassy ground.

Harry stared at it, his breath seemingly gone. And then he jumped to his feet, elated and not really knowing what to do. He had done it.

_He had done it!_

He jumped at the fish like a starving animal, pinning the creature to the ground while he feverishly- and with a slightly crazed look in his eyes- thought what to do with it. He needed fire. But, looking around, there were no stones to make spark with, and no dry wood, as it had rained earlier and everything was still slightly damp. He paused and eyed the fish speculatively.

He could eat it raw, he supposed.

That was what the Jap-Japanese people did right? He remembered his Uncle complain about it one day, as he returned from Japanese restaurant, that all they served was a stinky raw fish. His stomach churned at the thought- and then grumbled in hunger, making him whimper slightly- and suddenly the raw fish looked more than appetizing.

The fish stopped twitching now, even if it still gasped for breath- and that made Harry feel a bit guilty, and at loss how to kill it, even though it made him feel a bit ill. But he knew that right now it was kill or suffer situation, and if he had to murder a fish to survive, he will do it.

Stumbling back to the river, he weakly grasped a smooth stone from the bank, big enough to use it as a weapon, before returning to the silvery fish. He felt very cold, chills running up his spine as he stared down at the creature, feeling numb and slightly detached- and swung his hand hard, closing his eyes at the last possible second before the stone made a contact with the fish's head.

There was a wet crunch and Harry gasped, the stone slipping from his fingers as he stumbled away slightly, now looking at a very still fish. Its mouth stayed open, its gills didn't even twitch.

It was very much dead.

The boy whimpered and his breath heaved slightly, and for a moment he felt like he will be sick- but the feeling passed, and so he just rubbed his stinging eyes, few tears running down his cheeks. It was like watching through another set of eyes, when he picked up the fish and went back to the river to wash it thoroughly, getting rid of as much of a slime and dirt as he could. He knew what he will have to do next, seeing as he had no knife to cut the fish apart.

Sitting down on a log, he looked at the fish mournfully, his stomach once again churning, both from disgust and painful hunger.

For a second, a thought flashed through his head. He could just leave the fish here. It's not like he didn't suffer from hunger before-

But he had _caught it._ He _killed it._ Was that all for _nothing_?

So steeling himself, the boy closed his eyes and brought the fish to his mouth, preparing to bite and swallow no matter how nasty it would taste-

A rustle of a nearby bush had him jump up, the fish once again falling to the ground. He tensed and waited, holding back breath in alarm. What was that? A bird, a stray dog? Was it dangerous? A predator trying to steal Harry's fish for itself? The boy scowled, faint snarl on his lips as his eyes unknowingly flashed green. He hoped _not_.

Suddenly it seemed like his body was aware of everything that went around him as he crouched down, his gaze suddenly alert and focused, and moved closer to the rustling bush. His heart was hammering in his chest, but Harry was prepared to defend his catch- he spent so much effort on it, went through too much, to just give it up. Picking up the rock as he got closer, he raised it above his head, preparing to swing or throw, whatever seemed to be best-

And blinked when two large green eyes stared at him from the shadows, pupils slit in fear, a tiny black creature quivering among the leaves.

Harry slowly lowered the stone, before placing it back on the ground. A cat?

"...'Ere kitty," he cooed softly, his voice slightly hoarse as it was quite a while since the last time he spoke. He offered a bare palm, the hand shaking slightly from the scare he got. "Here, kitty, don' be afraid.."

The creature visibly sniffed and tensed, before crooning in a high-pitched growly way- and was that the sound cats made? He supposed so, after all Mrs. Figg's cats made all sorts of strange noises. The feline hesitated for a moment, its pupils dilating as it decided whenever to come out or not- and then slowly inched forward, crawling up from under the bushes.

Harry blinked and slowly retreated his hand. That... that was a very strange looking cat. It certainly had ears- at least something what Harry thought were ears- two, no three pairs of them even. The eyes were cat-like enough he supposed, even if it didn't have a nose of one. And no whiskers. Actually, it had no fur at all, even though it was black?

And it had wings. Wings of a bat. And tail of a lizard.

A lizard bat-cat, it was.

Harry briefly wondered if it was some horribly mutated monster that escaped from a crazy scientist's lab, and now it will eat him and soon cause terror and destruction on this neighbourhood- but as entertaining as that thought was, he knew that such things only happened in Dudley's stupid comic books (and no, he wasn't jealous, they really were _stupid_). So a bat-cat it was. And apparently, it wouldn't be able to eat him anyway, because as unbelievable as it sounded, it had no _teeth_- as Harry found out when it opened its mouth to croon at him again. Its eyes flickered to Harry's fish and the boy's heart plummeted.

"You- you are hungry."

Of course. Why else would be the strange bat-cat here? And cats ate fish, didn't they?

But Harry couldn't find it in himself to chase the creature away. Because wasn't he here by the river for the same thing? Because he was hungry? And looking at the bat-cat, it seemed strange. Not what he already saw as strange- but its eyes were big, and its paws were big too, along with round belly. It looked like a small puppy in a way. And that thought made him rear back slightly in surprise. It was a- a kitten! Albeit a very large and strange kitten, but a baby nonetheless! Harry bit his lip. He can't not help a baby.

"...I will call you Toothless," he told the kitten, before standing up and coming back to the fish, ignoring when the bat-cat flinched. He inspected the fish in dismay and then went to clean it once again, before staying at the shore, the kitten hesitantly following him.

He frowned at the fish before glancing at his new friend. Then he steeled himself and swiftly bit into the fish, ripping away a good sized chunk of its flesh, the kitten crying out as it saw.

_God help him it was awful._

Grimacing and gagging at the taste, Harry was more than happy to pick the chunk from his mouth and then offer it to the bat-cat- now named Toothless- who startled and stared at it- then at Harry- before slowly, hesitatingly, gobbling the offered meat up in one gulp. It sniffed and looked up at the boy, its pupils getting rounder, as if it was in disbelief. Then it shifted closer to, its ear perking up. Harry offered the kitten a weak smile before biting another chunk, this time swallowing it himself.

_Oh god it was so awful._

He gagged again and shuddered as he forced it down, the raw flesh leaving a bad after taste in his mouth- but he ignored it and bit off another chunk, offering it to Toothless again, who ate it gratefully.

Halfway through the fish Harry was feeling decidedly ill from the taste, and was quite happily decided to leave the rest of the fish to his new friend- but Toothless was, well, _toothless_, thus incapable of eating the thing himself- and Harry just couldn't find the heart to watch him struggle. And so he now bit off the chunks sorely for Toothless' benefit, feeding the small animal, his heart warming as the kitten nearly climbed to his lap as he nibbled at his fingers.

Soon enough the edible parts- at least, the parts Harry was willing to sink his teeth in- were gone, and the boy left the kitten chew on the remains, watching contentedly as he crooned in happiness.

He couldn't bring him back home.

If he leaves, will Toothless die? But he looked like he was living out there for some time now; and now Toothless' belly was full, so maybe if he came back tomorrow, and fed him again, he will be okay?

Harry bit his lip and gently stroked the scaly head.

"I will be back, okay?" he told the kitten, Toothless blinking and crooning "I won't let you die. Okay?"

He stood up and run away from the clearing, looking back for a moment to see his friend curl under the log, looking at him, and looking so lost-

But Harry couldn't bring Toothless home, because Uncle Vernon would surely kill him. But now he had something to look forward to- he had a responsibility, and he was determined to help Toothless survive and grow, and somehow that responsibility seemed to lift his heart. He felt strong, and felt like the day went very well-

Up until the point he vomited all over the floor in the kitchen while his Aunt screeched, because there is only so much raw fish a stomach can handle.

He needed to find a way to cook it next time.


	2. Chapter 2

_Of course, looking back, it seems more than just funny that I had no idea what Toothless was- and sometimes I even weep at my decidedly bad choice of naming my friend. But Toothless is Toothless, and after all we've been through now, I wouldn't exchange him for anything._

_I would happily die for him- and I know he would do the same for me._

_However, picking up a baby dragon and feeding it when it was hungry- especially after it saw you catch the fish- that is the easiest way to get a dragon's attention, and gaining its- a bit tentative- trust. Such thing won't work on an older dragon, or even fully grown adult. But it is a good start, as hunting for food is very time consuming for any kind of dragon, so bringing it dinner is a splendid way to 'sweeten the deal'._

_It sure helps that most dragons love fish above everything else._

_But back to my story._

_After feeding Toothless for the first time, I was really determined to keep at it, and help him grow. I never found out where my friend came from- if his mother abandoned him, or if he hatched from an egg a smuggler stashed away somewhere nearby. I never found evidence to prove either of my theories._

_Fact stayed that Toothless just appeared one day, and was pulled close to me._

_And hell if I was going to let the cute defenceless 'kitten' to starve._

_Oh boy, I had no idea how hard it was to feed a dragon..._

**Chapter 2.**

Harry was yelled at and then locked for the night after the mess he had done on the kitchen floor- after he was forced to clean it up of course. Which was a bit of a relief, as he didn't know how he would explain the bits and pieces of the half-digested raw fish. Not that it deterred him from trying to eat a raw fish again, as even through it made him sick, it was nice to have full stomach for once- and maybe if he keeps at it long enough, he will get used to it, and won't get sick anymore. _Still_, he thought, as he eyed the lighter his Aunt used for starting the fire on the stove, _It wouldn't hurt to have some back-up plan..._

Before that day, Harry never actually stole anything, no matter how many times his Aunt and Uncle accused him of eating all the sweets, even though it was clear that Dudley did it. He was after all trying to be good- but it never helped, it never changed anything for the better. And so he thought, in this instance- _Why bother?_ He needed something to start fire with, and he needed knife.

And so when his Aunt sniffed in angry disgust and left the kitchen, Harry used the moment to grab both and silently and swiftly stashed it away under his mattress in his cupboard, before returning to the kitchen not even second after, the Dursleys none the wiser.

He was sent to the cupboard without dinner- not that he would be able to actually stomach anything- and despite the eventful day, and his body shivering with the kind of a weakness that came from being sick, he fell into a deep and resting sleep.

He dreamed of the flying motorbike that night, the vehicle bucking and roaring, two leathery black wings propelling him forward.

_H_

His plans were somewhat ruined the next day, as his Aunt refused to let him go to the school; she sneered at him through the cupboard door, snapping that she didn't want to be blamed for some of the other brats coming down with _something_, or- god forbid- he might actually infect her poor Dudders.

It caused him a quite a bit of panic- after all, he had promised Toothless that he will come back! What if a- a stray dog ate him? He had _promised_!

And then a miracle happened in the form of his uncle, who- once finding out that his Aunt locked him in for the day- reddened in face so horribly that his skin looked almost purple, and bellowed that _In no way in hell he will keep the brat here, to stain their clean home with his freakish illness!_

Harry hurriedly grabbed the knife and the lighter, stuffing it in an old sock and tucking it behind his waistband, before he was picked up by the scruff of his neck and unceremoniously dumped outside the house, in the backyard. And he was to _stay there_ and hide out of the sight, _or else._

Picking himself up from the ground and dusting off his clothes- not that it would really help in the long run, as both the shirt and trousers, both hand-me-downs from Dudley, were already permanently stained from dirt and junk food, which no amount of detergent will ever get out. Any clothes Harry wore were three times his size, making him look even smaller than he was, the dirt just added to making him seem just like the unruly ruffian and all around delinquent his relatives made him out to be. That thought had him look silently back at the closed door, familiar feeling of hollow hurt and resignation gripping his throat.

He always tried to be so good. But it just wasn't mean to be, apparently. Yet, despite his Aunt and Uncle telling him every day, he just couldn't understand what was he doing _wrong_. Because, it's not like he didn't do his work, right? And, apart from the time at school, he didn't actually hurt anyone (he ignored the unsaid _yet_, because only thinking it had him shudder in slight fear- he was good, he was _good_).

Besides, Dudley was _mean._ And he was loud- he never helped with _anything._

And, didn't that actually mean that it was the Dursleys, not Harry, that were wrong? That realization had him scowl and sneer slightly, bile gathering in his mouth from the sheer bitterness he felt-

Harry forcefully shook it off, not really understanding what exactly happened, but knowing he didn't want it to happen again. Especially, he didn't want to sneer.

The less he had in common with his Aunt, the better, in his humble opinion.

So, stay there and hide out of sight.

The boy shrugged, completely disregarding the first command, as what was there to do anyway? And besides, there was plenty of hiding places in the small part, as no-one ever went there- mainly because there were no benches to sit on, and Harry could count on his one hand the number of people owning a dog.

And it was still too open for the older kids to have a meeting place there.

Casting a wary glance back at Dursleys' door, Harry silently to a spot by the fence at the farthest corner of the yard. There was a hole hidden between the bushes, which Harry suspected was a work of a very determined cat- or another animal, like foxes. They were supposed to be a menace, foxes. Or so Mrs. Hill said.

It were moments like these, when he appreciated his small size, as he knew that if he were as big as Dudley, he would never be able to squeeze through the small opening. He grinned at the image, of his fat cousin squealing and wiggling in the fence, not being able to go either way, and bit back an amused snicker that threatened to escape his lips. Well wouldn't that be a sight.

Casting one last look behind him, the little boy swiftly and quietly zipped into a dark alley between two neighbouring houses, a faint clanking of an abandoned can being the only sign he was ever there.

_H_

Harry felt like a ninja (not like a thief, even though it might be a better comparison), hiding in the shadows, climbing over garbage cans and old boxes, doing his damn best to be silent and unnoticeable. And he did well he thought- even if he saw plenty of people walk by his hiding spot, no-one ever noticed him.

(Though it was strange, as he could swear they looked right at him, once or twice- it's like he wasn't _there-_)

He entertained himself for a while by imagining wearing a cool black suit and a scarf around his face- holding a sweet sword and throwing those strange metal stars as he once saw on the television-

Those ninjas, they always did all those cool tricks- it was like magic almost-

_But magic doesn't exist._

Ah yeah. There was that.

...

...But...

The boy's face fell into a slight frown as he slowed down, squatting behind a low stone fence. His Aunt and Uncle always insisted that there was no such thing as magic. And for the first time ever, Harry wondered:

Why they were so- so vehement at that?

Well, magic doesn't exist, yeah- but like, _everyone_ knew that. Every kid in school loved fairy tales and such.

(And it was a novel experience for Harry, as for some reason there were no fairy tale books in Dursleys' household- which was strange because after that one lesson, Dudley demanded a fairy tale and was roughly denied- a first time something like that happened!)

So why did they?

Harry hummed and scratched his head, scrunching up his nose.

Well...

Aunt and Uncle said that Dudley was a good boy. But in truth, he wasn't- like, at all.

They said that Harry was bad- in everything. But, if he was, wouldn't Mrs. Hill punish him all the time?

So.

Everything is complete opposite.

Dudley was bad. Harry was good.

Harry... Harry was normal. Aunt and Uncle... they were _freaks._

The boy hesitated and tensed, quickly looking around as if making sure that he was truly alone and there were no horse-faced ladies with pursed lips, or walrus-shaped men scowling nearby. He shivered and rubbed his sides, as if feeling cold.

What if... what if _everything was the exact opposite?_

What if Harry's Mummy and Daddy were good? And- and n-not drunks at all? What if they-

Harry squashed that thought, because despite now believing that Dursleys were big fat liars, he didn't want to think about his Mummy and Daddy. Especially he didn't want to think they left him on purpose.

_What if magic was real?_

He sucked in breath quickly and covered his ears, as if someone yelled at him, tiny fingers gripping dark hair painfully. That was too good to be true. Too good.

Harry swiftly stood up, swallowing uneasily, and stumbled a little as he continued towards the park. He won't think about it. Besides, now he had Toothless to think about. And for some reason, imagining having a bat-cat friend while not in school, made him feel more than a bit better about his life here, in Surrey.

_H_

Toothless wasn't there.

Harry bit his lower lip as he looked under the bush and around the log, hoping to see a familiar black shape and hoping to hear a low croon.

But there was nothing- the kitten was gone.

The boy slowly sat down beside the log and sniffed, before bringing his knees close to his chest and curling to a ball- before wincing when the sharp point of the knife he _borrowed_ (well and why shouldn't he?) prickled him through the woolly sock. With another sniff he slowly pulled it out and placed it on the ground, looking at it for a moment. Well, that was his first goal, wasn't it? To catch a fish. And to cook it.

Harry was no stranger to cooking actually. At the Dursleys, he always used to make breakfasts and such- but that was before school, and for some reason his Aunt stopped trusting him with feeding her Dudders well. The boy snorted- well it's not like his cousin needs more.

As such, Harry knew how to cook meat- he never made anything out of a fish though.

Giving a sigh like an old man, the child stood up and headed to his spot at the river, already tucking his long shirt behind his pants, and scanning the water. Let's get to work.

_H_

Catching fish again was just as hard as yesterday. And for some reason it seemed even more so.

Harry scowled but remained stationed, watching the burbling waters intently. He really should get a fishing pole- or a spear, or something.

Spear would be cool. He would be looking like a proper warrior with one- and ultimate survivor. He bet that Dudley would think twice before coming at him, if he saw Harry armed with a spear.

Not that it would help much, Harry thought glumly, he would just tattle to Aunt Petunia and she would then yell at him. And then Dudley would take his spear for hims-

A flash of silver made him lunge instinctively, and in a split of a second, medium sized fish was trashing on the grassy ground. Harry grinned and cheered weakly. He'd done it!

Now what. The boy stood up and made his way over to the fish, picking up his trusty stone and smacking its head with only a moment of hesitation. Well, he needed fire now. Looking around, he saw few fallen branches here and there, along with many twigs and dry leaves. If he picked up some stones from the river, he could make a small campfire- like the one that were drawn in the book.

He looked up worriedly, towards the way of the street.

Maybe only a really small fire? One that wouldn't attract too much attention.

But all in all, Harry already felt like a master hunter. It wasn't difficult to make a fire, not with all the dead leaves around. And it hasn't rained either, so the wood was dry.

Finding a stick long enough to impale the fish on, he made a crude rack above the fire, grinning when everything held together and stayed stable enough for the fish to cook.

It was actually a very cosy feeling: sitting by the fire, looking as it crackled merrily, a delicious aroma of cooked meat slowly descending on the clearing. It was almost like a real camping- something Harry desperately wanted to experience, especially after 'reading' the book and after one of his classmates eagerly told the other kids about how his Grandfather always takes him on a camping trip.

And yet...

Where did Toothless go?

Harry sighed and drew his knees back to his chest, leaning against them with his chin. He stared morosely into the fire, wondering if he had made a mistake leaving the kitten alone-

-And then he nearly jumped in fright when a curious nose poked his arm, greeting warble reaching his ears.

"Toothless!"

He cried happily, immediately picking the kitten up and hugging him close, despite the creature squirming in protest. But Harry was just so relieved to see the little thing that he couldn't help it- and selfishly rejoiced at the thought of not being alone.

He pulled slightly back to beam at his-pet? Friend?- before gently placing him back down. Toothless shook himself off slightly and looked at the boy reproachfully, before turning his attention towards the fish that cooked over the fire, cocking his head curiously at the flames.

"I can't eat raw fish," Harry immediately explained "It's no good for me, see?" he poked the fire with a stick, grinning at Toothless when the kitten reared back in surprise as the flames crackled once "And yeah- I did this."

He watched the fire proudly. "And it will cook the fish- more yummy that way." He gave the kitten a wise look.

"Fire is very important."

Toothless blinked at him, before looking at the fire, inching closer. Harry straightened, alarmed.

"Toothless, wait-!"

Before he could pull the creature back, Toothless nearly pushed his snout into the flames. He gave a shocked snort, and jumped back with a screech. Harry immediately lunged for him, wanting to make sure he was okay-

And then Toothless _sneezed_, and the campfire just exploded in ball of fire.

Harry screamed and threw himself back, scrambling as far away from the hot flames as he could, panicked and very, very afraid, the only sound apart from the roaring of what seemed to be small inferno, a strange hissing and spitting the small cat- no, not a cat, something different, _dangerous_- was letting out.

And in a split of a second, it was over. The fire disappeared, leaving behind only charred ground and few remaining embers, while what should have been Harry's lunch was flung way back, the fish's meat blackened.

Harry stared at the sheer desolation in shock, not really understanding what had just happened-

He screamed again when Toothless nudged his hand and it made him jump away as far as he could from him.

"D-don't!"

What was he?

_What was he?!_

Toothless crooned, confused, and made another motion to approach him-

But Harry wasted no time to turning back and running away.

Just to run away from the burned ground, and from the smoke- because he was sure people saw that- and mainly he ran away from the strange _beast_ that wasn't cat at all- that wasn't a normal animal at all, because how many animals could spit fire?

Never once he turned back until he was safely hidden in the bushes in Dursleys' backyard, shaking and smelling of burning wood, mere minutes before his uncle appeared to call him back in.

It was telling how shaken he was when he immediately headed for his cupboard without any complains.

_H_

There was an investigation the very next day, constables going from house to house and asking around, as there was a mild case of arson recorded at the abandoned park, but there was little evidence to point them to the culprit.

Apparently they found remains of a campfire, and a slab of melted metal, but that was all.

No-one knew who did it, and why.

The case was abandoned not even a day after it was discovered, because it wasn't that serious, and the police had more serious cases to take care of.

Harry listened as the teachers gossiped about it, flinching slightly at their disapproving tone, but he kept his head down and remained quiet, working diligently on their assignment. Yesterday night he had come to a startling discovery, once he had calmed down. And actually, he proved that discovery when he drawn Toothless to his best ability and then showed it to his teacher and classmates with a false cheer in his voice, asking what did they thought about it.

Because there is only one animal that can spit fire.

And apparently he was the only one that can't recognize a dragon when he sees one.

But in his defence, he didn't even _know_ that dragons were _real_. But as far as everyone believed, they weren't.

And yet there was Toothless, clearly a baby dragon.

And with that understanding, came a mind-blowing realization.

_Dragons were real._

_Magic was real._

Fear gave place to awe and excitement. Magic was real. Could he do _magic_? Was that why his Aunt and Uncle didn't like him? Maybe his Mummy and Daddy could do magic too? But...

Harry's expression turned sombre.

If they could, wouldn't they be still here?

The reality settled heavily on his shoulders, as he hunched over his desk, his hand slowly stilling, as he stopped writing. After a minute, he started again.

So, maybe magic couldn't do everything.

Not really knowing how to feel about that, the boy pushed it from his mind, choosing to focus on his scaly problem instead.

Toothless.

Despite the fright the little reptile caused him- after all, who expected _a cat_ to suddenly spit out a fireball- he was quite worried. Did the policemen found him? Harry hoped not. What if they locked him in a cage and tried to experiment on the poor baby? And if Toothless ran away, he was probably hungry and alone, probably as scared as Harry was.

It made the boy bit his lower lip in guilt. Then his eyes hardened and he nodded determinedly. He will return to the clearing, to make sure Toothless is alright- and to plan more efficient way how to hide him so no-one will hurt him.

Harry was completely unaware that such reasoning was probably foolish, as any other child would immediately blab their finding to someone else. But Harry wasn't exactly a child like that.

Besides, who would believe him?

_H_

There were remains of the telltale yellow police tape that used to close off the area, before it was roughly ripped off, leaving only some of them fluttering in the wind. Harry looked around with worried eyes, inspecting any tracks that would give a hint as to what happened to the small dragon.

He noticed that the fish from yesterday was gone, probably eaten by his friend, or some other predator.

"Toothless?" he called out softly after a moment. Maybe the dragon hid himself, when he heard the adults coming. Harry certainly hoped so. "Toothless..?"

But the clearing remained empty, the air only disturbed by the flutter of the left-over yellow tape.

The boy sighed sadly, before sitting down at the remains of the campfire he was so proud of yesterday. To be honest, he didn't blame the dragon. After all, he was sure it was hurt and confusion that reflected in the small creature's eyes, when he ran away from him.

And besides, who would want to spend their time with Harry anyway?

"I'm sorry Toothless," he whispered miserably, sniffing, before rubbing his stinging eyes and bowing his head.

Then there was a soft pap at his side.

Harry looked up, scarcely believing it.

"...Toothless..?"

The tiny dragon sniffed, nostrils twitching, before crooning and head-butting the boy lightly. To Harry it looked like the small creature felt just as miserable as he did, and it made him rub his eyes again before pulling the reptile into his lap- Toothless not even protesting.

It made Harry realize something.

"You- you are alone too, right?" he murmured softly, hugging the baby close "No Mummy and Daddy too." And no family either.

Toothless crooned, and curled in his arms, green eyes closing as Harry started to pet his head. It actually made Harry guiltier than before- as happy as he was to have a friend, he never questioned where he came from- and where the rest of his family was.

Poor Toothless was alone, in cold, with no-one there to hold him. No-one there to feed him either. And he couldn't get the food himself, because he didn't know how- and he would drown probably.

"I will take care of you," Harry promised softly, scratching the scales gently "And- and you will grow to be a big strong dragon- like in the stories." The dragons in stories were always big and strong.

And feared.

Harry bit his lip.

"But, no eating princesses, okay?" he scolded the small reptile "There are no princesses anymore. So, none of that, okay?" Toothless snorted, and it made Harry giggle.

They spent nearly a half an hour like that, just cuddling in content silence. Toothless slowly but sure started to doze off, and Harry was happy to let him, knowing that the poor dragon was probably starved for company and comfort. His hand stilled in its petting when a small grumble and a soft vibration ran through his body. He at first wondered what that was, but then Toothless let out an unhappy whine, and the boy suddenly understood.

"Are you hungry, buddy?" He asked, before setting the reptile down. In truth, Harry was hungry too- but he could always count on some scraps from the table.

A luxury which Toothless didn't have.

"Come- we will catch some fish!"

And maybe, just maybe- as inexperienced as Harry was- he will be able to manage to teach Toothless how to catch his own fish.

_H_

It quickly became a routine. Harry slipped from school, to meet Toothless at the clearing, before they tried to hunt fish together (well, Toothless tried, as each time Harry managed to catch one, it seemed to get more and more easier, until he was catching them purely for the fun, and for Toothless to watch).

The Dursleys didn't question where he went off to as they seemed to be relieved to keep him out of their hair. Of course, Dudley didn't like that us much- mainly because Harry was a diligent student in school, and with him being away for most of the time, the adults started to forget about the unkempt delinquent, while they noticed Dudley's more than suspicious behaviour.

Perhaps in another world, where Harry didn't meet Toothless that faithful day, the boy would keep trying to talk to other kids, which would prompt Dudley to nip any building friendship in start, leaving the children to be firmly under the youngest Dursley's reign. But as it was, Harry didn't even try after his first failure.

After he started ignoring any jeering for his terrible looks, and big ugly glasses, his classmates started to notice other 'funny' characteristics among their ranks.

And that meant that Dudley- in his whiny and malicious behaviour- suddenly wasn't as scary. He walked funny. He was round and big as a beach ball. And he squealed like a pig each time he didn't get something he wanted.

And suddenly, as cruel as the children used to be to Harry, it was nothing compared to the ridicule Dudley started to experience- especially after the boy deliberately destroyed a drawing of one of the well-liked girls that always was nice to everyone, and had no problem with her classmates borrowing her crayons.

Harry watched the scene with apprehension, silent in his personal corner, and wondering if his cousin was aware what kind of a mistake he just made. Looking at the mean smirk on the boy's face, he really doubted it. But Harry could see the scowls some of his classmates exchanged, even the somewhat worried and hesitant expressions Dudley's gang wore.

It was all good when Dudley terrorized him- after all, Harry was that weird kid no-one liked- but going after Ellie like that? That was suicidal.

The dark-haired boy just shook his head and returned to his drawing.

He was sure Dudley will feel the consequences soon enough.

_H_

It actually happened on one of the days where Harry was locked in his cupboard as a punishment for not fulfilling his chores as he should.

He was humming quietly, drawing Toothless on a spare piece of paper he managed to filch before. Suddenly he paused as the phone rang, prompting his Aunt to come out of the living room to pick it up.

"Petunia Dursley speaking."

He blinked as there was a murmur of a strict and no-nonsense voice from the other end, and inching closer to the small grille in the door, he could see his Aunt purse her lips and her face paled slightly.

"My Dudders?" she inquired weakly "But- no, surely a mistake-"

She was interrupted and Harry leaned closer slightly, holding his breath back, straining his ears. What happened?

"How- You must be mistaken!" she nearly yelled shrilly into the receiver "My baby would never-!" Her nostrils flared "He's the perfect little angel, some of the brats-" she shot a venomous look at the cupboard door and Harry flinched slightly "-must have set him up!"

Harry scowled. What, did she meant to say this was his fault too? Feeling of resentment welled in his stomach like and acid and he shook his head in faint disgust.

"...Months..?" Aunt Petunia repeated weakly "B-but-but-! ...I- I understand. I- I will be right there."

She hanged up, her hand lingering on the receiver, and Harry suddenly felt some amount of pity for her. After all, it was always clear to him that his Aunt thought highly about her son and it must have been terrible for her delusions to shatter.

He moved back from the light when she walked swiftly by him to grab her coat before heading out of the house, the door shutting behind her quietly.

Yes, he pitied her. But on the other hand, perhaps it will make her finally _see_.

_H_

Harry didn't really know what to think, when he saw his stone-faced Aunt return home, leading a whining, and sweets-demanding Dudley by his hand, but for some reason that expression made him really uneasy. When she passed his cupboard without a word, the feeling turned to confusion- what did they told her at school?

"Muuuum," Dudley shook her hand "I want chocolate! We passed the candy shop and you didn't get any!" he shouted, making his displeasure know. It made Petunia to finally look at her son and the expression on her face made Harry rear back with wide eyes.

_Smack._

The sound of the hand hitting his porky cousin's cheek echoed through the suddenly very silent hall, and it seemed to shook everything Harry so far knew in its foundations. He watched, shocked, the absolute fury in his Aunt's face- but no-one was more shocked than Dudley.

The boy blinked- and then he started screaming, and ripped his hand from his mother's hold. Immediately he squatted down and fell on his bottom on the ground, his cheeks turning red as big fat tears started rolling down his face. For a moment, Petunia looked hesitant- and Harry expected her to start coddling his cousin- but then her expression hardened.

"Go up to your room!" she screeched, bony finger with a sharp fingernail pointing shakily up the stair "No television, and no sweets, until your father gets home! You are in so much trouble, young man!"

That only caused Dudley to scream harder and punch the ground in furious and hurt tantrum, but where Petunia used to take it in stride, now she would have none of it. Picking her son up, she gave him another smack- this time on his fat bottom, making him jolt- before she started dragging him up the stairs, yelling at him all the way up, not even sparing a glance to the cupboard door as they passed by.

Harry was shaking by the time she returned, and he could still hear Dudley raging in his room. He expected her to start yelling at _him_ now- but to his great surprise, she didn't.

However he flinched when she suddenly unlocked the cupboard and opened the door.

"Out, boy." She said in forced calmness, not even looking at him "Get out of the house- and don't come back till it's dark."

Harry moved out of the small place slowly, inching for the entrance, before hesitating. His Aunt looked so pale from this close- almost unhealthily, and he could see that her hands trembled.

"...Auntie?" he risked speaking, looking up at her "Are you- are you okay?"

Her lips pursed as her head snapped to him- and he flinched, immediately regretting asking- but instead of yelling, she visibly took a breath, and closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax.

"...Don't make Vernon see you." She said instead, and swiftly walked away towards the kitchen. Harry was torn between leaving and making sure she was okay- but he forced his body to move. He doubted that his Aunt would really appreciate his concern.

And there must have been a reason she didn't want him to be around when Uncle returned.

From there it was only matter of minutes of sneaking in the shadows to get to his favourite clearing- where he had to bite back a snicker when he saw Toothless- now at the size of larger dog, dragons grew _fast_- lying on his back, warbling happily as he sunbathed.

His friend's ear flaps twitched and his head snapped up, before he let out a low croon in greeting- and turned right back to his previous occupation. Harry snorted and flopped on him, ignoring his grunt.

"You are lazy," he told the dragon "And you will get fat- and then you won't fly, like _never_." That was another thing about Toothless. The reptile clearly had large wings, but not once Harry saw him flap them- or even attempt to hover, apart from using them to jump around when excited. But Harry was _sure_ Toothless could fly. How else he could be hiding so easily?

The dragon chuffed slightly at the words and just lolled his tongue out, not looking like he particularly cared. The boy however just giggled, and rubbed Toothless' belly, far too used now to his friend's actions.

And another interesting thing happened- Toothless was no longer toothless. Sometime between the first and second month meeting him, the dragon started teething- which made him actually very irritable- and now was sporting quite a lot sharp teeth.

The funny thing was he could _retract_ them.

Harry sighed and melted on his friend's warm belly.

"Something strange is happening, bud." He murmured, and the dragon warbled sleepily.

_H_

As Harry understood it, it was far worse than he initially thought. Yes, Dudley was caught in bullying, and more than just few parents complained about it. But what he didn't know- and what his Aunt didn't know- was that Dudley was not already reprimanded _months_ ago, but also that the school sent a letter.

Which apparently his Uncle read and -deciding it to be complete rubbish- threw it immediately away. When Dudley's behaviour didn't get better, the Principal had no other way but to suspend him for five days.

In his absence, his Aunt and Uncle had a row.

Naturally, Vernon tried to pin every and each of Dudley's wrongdoing on Harry, but Petunia was having none of it- it seemed the wake-up call was far harsher than the dark-haired boy thought. And there was no denying the sheer evidence presented by his and Dudley's classmates.

"But it had to be him!" his Uncle roared "This- this unnatural freakishness- _he brainwashed them all!_"

But it was no use- Petunia was firm as a mountain, and when Vernon tried to punish him, she stood her ground and didn't let him.

It was a very different Number Four after that argument.

Uncle Vernon always shot Harry dirty looks when he walked by, but did nothing of the promised harm- especially with Aunt Petunia hovering around like a hawk. And when Dudley tried to bully him to do the work the school assigned him?

He got spanked and sent to bed without dinner.

All in all, it was like he was in different world- and Harry wasn't sure if he liked it, or if it was all just too creepy.

At least his meetings with Toothless gave him some sense of normalcy, as strange as it sounded.

_H_

But it proved to him that nothing was actually as it used to be, when he found a small, grey-furred and grey-scaled creature curled under his cot, sleeping merrily in the shadows.


End file.
